


All The Difference A Closed Door Makes

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, FAHC, GTA Universe, Happy Ending, M/M, OT6, Sex, Slow Burn, Well - Freeform, but only mentioned really, for me anyway, if you think it does count as graphic let me know, okay so there's violence later but not what I'd consider graphic depictions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: There's a door policy in the penthouse, lovingly devised by Geoff to make sure his crew don't kill each other over matters of privacy.But more than that, they're fucking beacons for the states of their various relationships and just how easy - or not so easy - it'll be when Michael realises he's harbouring some not-so-platonic feelings for his friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [On the Importance of Workplace Synergy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567144) by [anarchetypal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchetypal/pseuds/anarchetypal). 



They've got a policy in the penthouse. Closed door means don't enter. Ajar is an invitation. Sock on the door if you're jerking off. That last one was Jack's addition – originally as a joke.

Michael walks past Ryan's room – closed as it usually is – to get to Gavin's, which is open right now. Gavin doesn't shut his much unless he's working on a particularly difficult job or, well, sock on the door. Anyway, he's in other people's rooms most of the time. But he's in his own now because it's nearly one a.m. and Michael's going over because he can't sleep.

Michael knocks courteously as he steps in, smiling at Gavin's eager wave.

“Hey boi, what's up?” Gavin asks, scooting over so Michael can sit down on his bed beside him.

“Not much, just finished cleaning the mini-gun.” Michael peers at Gavin's screen and Gavin shifts the laptop so it rests on both of their thighs. “What you playing?”

“I'm figuring out how we'd build a creeper in Minecraft,” Gavin says, pulling up a giant image of one and gesturing to it. “But, like, one that goes to the sky. Wanna help?”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah, sure. When you doing it?”

“Dunno, maybe this weekend. I'll have to ask Geoff. We're gonna get absolutely smashed for it,” Gavin replies with a wide smile and Michael's always had a hard time saying no to the guy.

“I only have one question,” Michael says, levelling Gavin with a serious glare. “Is there going to be TNT in it?”

Gavin rolls his eyes and laughs. “Of course.”

“Right then, I'm in.”

–-

Jack's door – as a sharp contrast to Ryan's – is usually open, and he's usually inside. Even at noon on a Sunday.

“Hey Jack,” Michael says, leaning against the doorframe. He adjusts his gloves and Jack turns away from his desk to raise an eyebrow.

“Hey Michael,” he replies. “You need something?”

“No.” Michael lets his gaze travel over the impromptu trophy case in Jack's room – a fancy term for what is just a shelf of shitty little plastic trophy cups that they get him every time he wins a race. “There's a race up by Bolingbroke today. I was wondering if you'd want to come.”

“Bolingbroke? The police'll be all over that,” Jack says. “And they're still looking for us after Gavin's little stunt last week.”

Michael meets Jack's eyes and he sees a familiar glint that all but speaks Jack's answer.

“So that's a yes?” He asks, grinning knowingly.

“Yep,” Jack says, and promptly stands up, shooing Michael out of the room so he can change.

–-

Geoff's door is more of a halfway point – half the time it's open, half the time it's closed. He says it's because he needs a break _from you idiots, I have no idea how Jack manages to do it all the time_ , but they all know he only closes it when he's working, so screw whatever bullshit excuse he tries. They all see through him.

“Michael!” He calls while Michael's walking past his door. His _closed_ door. Michael stops and swivels to face it, opening it hesitantly.

“How did - “ he starts, but then a manila folder flies through the air like a frisbee and smacks him square in the chest – he barely catches it in time. His eyes widen and Geoff glances up, grinning when he sees Michael.

“How did you know it was me?” Michael asks, shuffling the folder to realign the papers in it.

Geoff lifts one shoulder and goes back to whatever he was typing. “Lucky guess.”

Michael narrows his eyes and flips open the folder. “What is this?”

“What is it ever? It's your fuckin' job.”

Michael skims over the first page and clicks his tongue approvingly. Drug deal. Usually Ray's territory, but he's already busy today. “Can I take someone with me?”

Geoff waves dismissively and doesn't even look at him. “Yeah, yeah, just get it done. Close the door on your way out.”

Michael pulls out his phone as he shuts the door, bringing up the messaging app to text Gavin.

_> Up for a job?_

_Pick me up on your way_

–-

Michael laughs when he sees the sock on Ray's slightly ajar door – a horrendous neon green sock that can only mean Gavin's put it on there – but knocks anyway. Ray looks up when he comes in, sliding one ear of his headphones off and pausing whatever he's doing on his phone.

“Hey,” he says, rolling over onto his back so there's room for Michael on the bed. Michael likes coming to Ray's room – the door's open more often than not, and it's a pretty good place to chill out when Michael wants quiet company.

“Where's Ryan?” Michael lies down next to Ray, who shrugs and pushes his headphones down to around his neck.

“In his room, why?”

“I need to borrow his car.”

Ray raises an eyebrow and turns back to his phone. “Good luck with that, dude. Why?”

“Jack wants me to be discreet for this job. I mean, it _is_ an assassination.”

Ray bursts into laughter and Michael can't help his own chuckling.

“What, you mean your fuck-off chrome paint job _isn't_ discreet?” Ray asks through his laughter and Michael kicks him playfully, smiling as he shrugs.

“Apparently not. In fact he specifically banned it from this job. And my black one's in for repair.”

“You could always take Geoff's.”

“Funnily enough, he doesn't trust that it'll come back in one piece.”

Ray glances at him, narrowing his eyes as he asks his next question.

“Why doesn't he trust you?”

“Gavin's coming with me,” Michael replies, and Ray scoffs, laughing again.

“Yeah, well, Ryan's _definitely_ not going to let you borrow his, then.”

“He might.”

“I want to be there when you ask.”

–-

Michael doesn't manage to get Ryan's car but he does get the spares to Geoff's – Ryan hands them silently over and Michael doesn't ask – and he twirls them triumphantly above his head as he kicks Gavin's door open.

“Get ready bitches, it's heist time!” He shouts, and Gavin groans as he rolls over, still half-asleep.

“Fuck off, Michael,” he grumbles, shoving his face into the pillow. “'S too bloody early for this.”

“Early? Gavin, it's two in the afternoon,” Michael says, pulling the pillow out from under Gavin. He leans down to look at the red rims of Gavin's eyes and the scruff on his cheeks, frowning at the sight.

“When did you go to bed last night?” He asks.

“Too late,” Gavin replies, closing his eyes and burying his face in his arms.

“Well, we've got a job to do, so you need to get up.”

Gavin doesn't respond. Michael sighs and stands up, pocketing the keys.

“I'll go get you some coffee.” He turns to go but a hand slaps against his arm. He glances back to see Gavin looking up at him with one eye, his arm dangling off the edge of the bed.

“Can you get food?” He asks, his mouth mashed into his forearm. Michael rolls his eyes but smiles, patting Gavin's bare shoulder.

“Yeah, I'll get you something to eat. Now get up.”

“Thanks, Michael,” Gavin slurs, and Michael hears sheets shift and the bed creak as he exits the room.

–-

Geoff sends Ray and Ryan on a couple of contract jobs – quick, easy cash that he'll use to get weapons for the next heist. He sends Michael to pick them up afterwards so they won't have to worry about escaping themselves.

“Kids, I'm here!” Michael shouts as he beeps the horn obnoxiously, crawling down the streets and squinting into dark alleyways. “You're gonna be late for practice!”

Ray emerges from the shadows, glaring as he lets himself into the back of Michael's car – well, actually Jack's car, a big ol' SUV that Michael picked out just so he could make this joke.

“How was school today?” Michael asks as he drives to Ryan's location, glancing at Ray in the rearview mirror. Ray rubs at his eye and leaves gunpowder smeared on his cheek, laying his rifle in the footwell.

“It was fine, _Mom_ ,” he says, and Michael grins.

He repeats the call near Ryan's spot, and laughs when he sees him, leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. He stubs it out before walking over to Michael, sliding in beside Ray and stowing his SMGs in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“How was school today? Did anyone bully you?” Michael asks, saccharine sweet, and Ryan narrows his eyes, meeting Michael's gaze in the mirror. “You know I've talked to the school about that, honey,” Michael continues, and Ray laughs. Ryan's face paint is a little smudged around his mouth and there's a layer of dust on his jacket to accompany the gravel in his hair.

“I told you to stop tattling,” Ryan says, pouting moodily. Michael cracks up and rolls up his window.

“Loser,” Ray says, and Ryan just shoots him a look.

“So if Michael's mom, who's dad?” He asks.

“Geoff,” Michael and Ray say at the same time, and Ryan nods decisively.

–-

“Wait, so – so what's melee again?” Geoff asks, fumbling over his controller and doing everything _but_ meleeing.

“Y,” Michael and Ray say in unison, shooting at the horde of zombies very slowly backing them into a corner.

“You look at little fucked there,” Jack comments, slurping up noodles as he watches.

“Nah, we can do this,” Michael says unconvincingly. “I mean, we got Ray.”

“Nope, I died,” Ray announces a moment later, and Michael swears.

“Alright, we don't have Ray,” he says. “We're a lot fucked.”

“Well we probably beat you guys,” Ray says, handing his controller to Ryan.

“I dunno, we've got Ryan,” Jack replies.

“Yeah, but you've also got Gavin,” Michael adds, back to back with Geoff now. Gavin protests and Michael elbows him, dying with a battle cry and then passing the controller over. Geoff dies with an undignified scream and Jack gladly plucks the controller from his hands, starting a new game as they shuffle on the sofa.

Ryan plonks the popcorn bag firmly in Ray's lap as he settles in beside Jack, shifting his Diet Coke over to himself.

“What, I'm popcorn bitch now?” Ray asks, taking a handful nonetheless.

“Yep,” Geoff says cheerfully, handing Michael a new beer over Ray's lap. “That's why I hired you.”

Ray shrugs and takes the Coke Gavin hands him, cracking it open with one hand. “I'll take it.”

–-

Michael has his door open a lot, but it's closed now, while he's angrily bandaging his arm. The gauze chafes painfully over the burn – a grenade got a little too close for comfort – and he grits his teeth as the bandage slips again. He swears vehemently under his breath and there's a knock on his door.

“What the fuck do you want?” He calls, unwrapping the bandage to get more fucking burn cream on his arm.

Ryan steps in quietly, shutting the door behind him and walking over to Michael to sit down next to him on the edge of Michael's bed.

“What do you want?” Michael asks, glaring and ignoring the throbbing mess his arm is right now. Ryan levels him with an even gaze and takes Michael's arm, extending it towards him. Michael scowls and tries to pull it back, but even tensing the muscle hurts. Fuck grenades.

“Don't hurt yourself,” Ryan says, picking up an alcohol swab packet from the pile of medical supplies near Michael's thigh and ripping it open with his teeth. “Stay still.” He unceremoniously wipes down Michael's arm, swiping away the fresh blood that wells up from the scratches.

Michael sets his jaw and looks off to the right as Ryan works, annoyed at how fucking stupid he must look right now – can't even fucking wrap his own arm, fucking _useless_ – and how stupid he _feels_. Ryan rubs burn cream liberally over his forearm, wiping the excess on his own jeans before unrolling new bandage and beginning to wrap it around Michael's arm. He's quick and efficient about it, taping down the ends and fixing it so it's snug but not too tight.

“Geoff's got dinner for you,” Ryan says as he stands up, gathering the trash by Michael's hip and dumping it into the bin. “He feels kind of bad for laughing at you.”

Michael carefully rests his arm on his leg and glances up at Ryan.

“I'll be out in a minute,” he says. Ryan nods shortly and heads to the door – Michael speaks when he's halfway out. “Thanks, Ryan.”

Ryan's head turns a little – enough that Michael can see the small smile pushing up the corner of his mouth – and he shoots back a casual “No problem” before leaving.

–-

“Hey boi.”

Michael looks up from his phone to see Gavin's sunny grin as he plops down on the sofa right next to Michael, his elbow bumping carelessly against Michael's side.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. Gavin pops his gum and pokes Michael's knee.

“You doin' anything today?”

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Want to go to a car show?”

“When?”

“Tonight. Across town.”

Michael squints and Gavin smiles innocently.

“Are we _allowed_ to go to this?” He asks.

“Yeah, I got the tickets already! And I'll ask Jack to come along when he gets back.”

“Why do I feel like you're lying to me?”

Gavin rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder against Michael's. “Pegasus has a new Carbon they're showing off.”

“You want to steal the bike.”

“Well of _course_ , Michael, what's the point otherwise?” Gavin asks, and Michael laughs, checking the time on his phone.

“Before or after the show?”

“After.” Gavin smacks his knees and stands up, stretching as he starts to walk away. “I'll find you at six, yeah?”

“Yeah. Wait, what's the dress code?!” Michael yells after him.

“Formal casual!” Gavin replies, and Michael groans.

Well, at least he'll have a reason to use his new jacket.

–-

“Where are you going?” Ryan asks, eyeing them up suspiciously as they walk past the living room.

“Car show,” Gavin says, popping out a new square of gum from the packet. Michael adjusts the cuffs on his leather jacket and hooks an arm around Gavin's shoulder, grinning as he pulls him in close.

“Is that code for a drive-by?” Ryan asks, and Jack laughs, accepting the gum Gavin offers him. He's in an actual suit jacket, and Michael's surprised he's never seen it before because Jack looks real official in it, would be intimidating if it wasn't for the nerdy T-shirt hidden underneath.

“No, like, an actual car show,” Michael explains. “Got tickets and shit.”

Ryan cocks an eyebrow and calmly turns back to his game.

“Sure,” he says, disbelieving.

“Really, Ryan!” Gavin protests.

“I'll believe you when you come back _without_ a headline about this show,” Ryan says, and they all go tellingly silent.

“That's what I thought,” Ryan concludes, sitting back in his seat. Geoff comes in behind them and shoots them a questioning look, but Michael's already ushering them to the exit.

–-

Gavin flirts as easily as he breathes, all smooth and suave in his neat button-down and tight jeans, bright smile and brighter eyes. He's happy to chat to (or up) anyone and everyone, talking with animated gestures and an almost lyrical cadence that all but enchants his target.

He does not seem to possess this cool around Michael, or, in fact, any time when he's not trying to convince or trick someone.

Gavin can get a little touchy, and Michael's fine with it, happy to sling an arm over his shoulders or grab his arm to pull him over, but he can see the looks they're getting from some of the other guests – some just curious, but there's a few disgusted gazes, and they make Michael's blood boil. He doesn't remove his arm, instead tightening it around Gavin's shoulders as Gavin asks Jack about attaching rockets to the new Adder – Bond style.

“There are some people I don't like the look of,” Michael says, low so only Gavin and Jack can hear it. “Fuckers.”

“Yeah, I saw them,” Gavin replies, and shrugs. “Got their phones, too.”

“What, seriously?” Jack asks, “Couldn't resist the petty theft?”

“You know me, Jack,” Gavin grins, disentangling himself from Michael to move to another car.

“Unfortunately, I do,” Jack mutters to Michael, but he's smiling as they follow Gavin.

–-

The new Carbon has a ridiculously powerful engine and a sleek black paint job with silver accents that Gavin says he's going to paint over with gold.

It goes really fucking fast and it takes corners fucking _beautifully_ as they zoom down the suburbs, Michael hunching down and Gavin holding on tight behind him.

They couldn't fit three people on a bike, but they didn't forget about Jack. He's got a fancy blue Osiris that some poor shmuck left in the darkest corner of the car park, and he was more than happy to take it. He's always preferred cars, anyway.

Gavin waves at Jack as he pulls up alongside them, rolling the windows down.

“Chiliad?” Jack asks, shouting over the rush of the wind. Gavin shoots him a thumbs-up and Jack nods, pulling away a little so there's a more comfortable distance between the car and the bike. Michael guns it past him just to hear Gavin's startled scream.

–-

Michael understands that it's pretty weird for six hardcore criminals to live together in a penthouse. He realises that most people don't share walls with a violent murderer and their boss. And it's not like it's not chaotic, all of them living together as a crew. Sure, they've got their own places – sometimes used as hideouts, sometimes for hook-ups, sometimes when they need a little space after a bad heist – but overall they don't use them that much. Michael hasn't stepped foot in his for about two months now.

But living together, there's the loud game nights, the drunken antics, the pranks, the general horsing around that comes from a group of six guys – _I run a fucking frat house_ , Geoff says sometimes.

The door policy works pretty well, considering. Almost surprisingly well. Michael guesses they have Geoff to thank for that – when the guy wants to be obeyed, he will.

Still, Michael's gotta say that when he accidentally barges in on Gavin naked, the reaction's pretty much worth Geoff's glaring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter that has the violence I didn't tag as graphic (because I wouldn't consider it graphic enough for the tag) BUT if you think I should tag it, let me know. And if you want a warning about what it involves, just comment and ask and I'll inform you. Thanks for reading!

Michael wakes up with a killer headache and a steady ache in his jaw that tells him this is not a hangover.

He gropes for the alarm blaring on the table – it's Gavin's fucking phone – and turns it off before dropping his arm to the bed and sighing. His other arm is pinned down by Gavin, who is currently face down in the pillows. He groans into them and Michael pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing through his pounding headache and trying to remember what the fuck happened the night before.

“Give me my fuckin' arm,” Michael grumbles, and Gavin shifts slightly so Michael can pull his arm out. He squints around the room – they're in Gavin's room, in Gavin's bed – and pushes himself up to a sitting position.

“Wait – wait, don' move,” Gavin mumbles, pushing himself up on one arm and flipping to sit next to Michael. He clumsily knocks the bedsheets away and then Michael realises that there's bandages over Gavin's legs, wrapped around one knee and a thigh. There's a pattern of bruises up Gavin's body – he's only in boxers – and a cut over his cheekbone.

“Shit, what happened?” Michael asks, starting to reach up for Gavin's face, but pauses as soon as he sees his own busted knuckles, bloody and swollen. He realises they _hurt_ , throbbing with pain and then it registers that his _entire body_ aches.

“Stay still,” Gavin orders, grabbing something off his bedside table. He drops a couple of painkillers in Michael's hand and hands him a bottle of water. Michael downs them quickly and runs a hand through his hair – it's matted and stiff, something dried in it. “Shit, sorry, I should have been awake,” Gavin continues, worry pulling at his eyes, and Michael frowns.

“What happened, Gavin?”

“The – Michael, the heist. Don't you remember?”

Michael furrows his eyebrows and nods. “Yeah, I remember – yeah, I remember it, of course I do Gavin, what – what are you talking about?”

“You got knocked out,” Gavin says, swinging his legs gingerly out of the bed and carefully standing up. “Stay there, I'll get Jack.”

“Gav - “

“Stay there,” Gavin repeats, pulling on a pair of sweats and wincing as the fabric drags over his leg. He hobbles to the door and opens it to disappear into the hallway.

Michael takes stock of himself while he waits – he's got pyjama bottoms on, so someone changed him, but he's shirtless and there is, quite frankly, a myriad of cuts littered all over his torso, small enough they don't need to be bandaged, but they're cleaned. There's still dried blood smeared over his shoulder and a nasty scrape on his left elbow – he remembers getting that – but he doesn't remember really anything after that cop rushed him. He was fighting the cops, he knows that much, and his shotgun ran out of ammo and he started swinging with the empty gun and a cop ran towards him and _crack_ and black.

Michael wonders how long he's been out.

He hears a shout a few rooms down and a frantic burst of yelling and he wants to go help, but a wave of dizziness makes him shut his eyes instead and focus on staying absolutely still.

Gavin returns with Jack, who's not looking much better, streaked in dried blood and slightly pale. Still, he smiles shakily at Michael and comes up to check on him, brushing Michael's hair back to check on what must be the wound and asking him questions in a calm voice as Gavin hovers nervously behind him. Michael answers them all just fine and Jack nods decisively, dropping his hand from Michael's face.

“I'm glad someone's all right,” he says, and Gavin sits down by Michael's feet.

“What's happening down there?” Michael asks, jerking his thumb towards the wall. Jack frowns and glances over.

“Ryan got hurt pretty bad,” he says. “They're operating on him right now.”

“ _Operating_? What the fuck happened?!” Michael looks between Jack and Gavin and they both avoid his eyes. “How bad is it?!”

Gavin pales a little and Jack sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Ryan got pretty torn up by some nasty shrapnel,” Jack says quietly. “It's really fucking messy in there.”

“What about the rest of the crew?” Michael asks.

“Geoff's mostly surface wounds,” Gavin offers, shrugging slightly. “Got knifed a little, but nothing too major.”

“Me too,” Jack says. “But I wasn't in the middle of it. Ray got shot in the foot and he's still refusing to take a fucking break. And then, well, you know what happened to you.”

“Can I help?” Michael asks. Jack shakes his head and starts backing up to the door.

“No, you two stay here. You're fine. I've got to get back,” he says, and they nod as he leaves.

Gavin's silent for a minute before he moves to sit on the bed again, shoulder against Michael's.

“Geoff pulled you out,” he says, looking down at his lap. “It was almost too late.”

Michael ignores the waver in Gavin's voice and glances at his knee.

“What happened to your knee?” He asks.

“One guy was tossing knives at us. Got me with two of them.”

“Are you okay?” Michael adds, and Gavin smiles a little, resting his head on Michael's shoulder.

“I'm glad you're awake,” Gavin replies.

–-

Michael has a lump the size of a fucking golf ball – okay, maybe he's exaggerating, but whatever – and the headache's still there after two days, but when he finally hobbles out into the living room, he sees he's maybe the least damaged out of all of them.

Ray's asleep on the sofa, his foot in a heavy white cast and propped up on the coffee table. He's leaning against Jack, who's reading something on his phone. In the kitchen Michael finds Geoff cooking something and Gavin next to him, leaning pretty heavily on a crutch. Geoff turns and smiles tiredly at Michael, a serious black eye blossoming over the left side of his face and his right wrist in some sort of splint. His clothes hide whatever other injuries he may have, but Michael can see gauze peeking out under the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“You're finally up,” Geoff says. “Welcome to the waking world, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Eh, fuck you,” Michael replies, taking slow steps to the breakfast bar and sitting down carefully on a stool. “Are you making something?”

“Yeah, you want some?”

“What is it?”

“Eggs and bacon.”

“Sure.”

Michael slumps on the counter and rests his spinning head on his forearm, staring blankly ahead of him. His line of vision is broken by Gavin sitting down next to him, resting his crutch against the bar.

“You good, boi?” He asks, bending to meet Michael's eyes. Michael nods and blinks deliberately to shake the fuzziness.

“Jus' dizzy,” he says. Gavin makes a noise of agreement.

–-

A day later, Michael finally sees Ryan, and man did he get _fucked up_. He's awake but groggy, gauze taped down his entire right side and still staining red with blood. Ray's sitting next to the bed in an armchair, playing something on his DS when Michael comes in.

“Hey Ryan,” he says.

“You're awake,” Ryan croaks. There's a cut above his eye and a nasty bruise flowering over his cheekbone. It almost matches the clear fingerprints around his throat.

“I told you he was awake,” Ray says, not unkindly, and smiles at Michael.

“Sorry, I was too busy not dying to remember that,” Ryan replies, and Ray's smiles falls at the reminder.

“Yeah, I woke up a few days ago,” Michael says. “Heard you got fucked by some shrapnel.”

“Fucked would be the nice way to put it,” Ryan rasps. “More like brutally raped.”

Michael laughs and winces at the sting that brings to his sore chest.

–-

The week after that heist, they all get a little closer. Ray doesn't leave Ryan's side a whole lot and Geoff's a lot less willing to let them go out by themselves. Jack starts more impromptu film nights and, well, Michael can't deny that it's nice just being there with the crew.

Michael's head finally clears and he can actually _help_ now, changing bandages and making food and fixing Gavin's crutch when he accidentally breaks it. He gets Jack to take a break and sets up a cot in Ryan's room so someone can sleep there overnight when they have to watch him – it's usually Ray, if not him then Geoff – and slowly they all manage to get back to normal.

It's not normal, though. Not really.

Michael learns just how close Ryan was to death, that one second later and he would have been gone – how Jack and Geoff were up for two days straight after the heist, busy taking care of the rest of them, sewing up gashes and dressing wounds.

He learns that Ray nearly passed out from blood loss after helping with Ryan, too stubborn and too determined to let anyone stop him to actually bandage up his foot.

Michael learns that Gavin volunteered to watch him – _him_ , Michael – and that his head blow was bad enough he nearly died.

They're all a little more than shaken and when Michael decides to tackle the vehicles, he has to physically stop and remind himself to breathe because there's so _much_ blood on the seats, smeared over the leather and carpet, splattered against the windows. Jack comes in to help and too calmly tells him that's the car they got Ryan into.

And next to that is Gavin's bike – Michael has no idea how the guy survived because one tyre's completely blown out and the entire side of it is scorched – and beside that is Ray's bike, a worrying amount of blood dried on one pedal, which means he was shot in the fucking foot and _still_ drove himself the hell out.

Sometimes Michael's amazed by his friends.

Sometimes he's amazed that they're all still _alive_.

–-

They're all a bit more tactile after that heist. Something about near-death makes them more agreeable to pressing together on one side of the corner sofa, Michael sandwiched between Gavin and Jack and even Ryan doesn't sit on the other side, carefully perched next to Ray on the sofa and his other arm bumping Geoff's as he moves.

It's only been two weeks since the heist – everyone's mostly healed, except Gavin's knee and Ray's foot and Ryan's everything, but the bruises are fading and the scars are disappearing.

Michael ends up sleeping in Gavin's bed more often than not.

It started with necessity – someone needed to watch him, Gavin volunteered, it was just easier to sleep in the same bed – but then it became kind of...nice, to have someone near. Michael tells himself it's because he needs to make sure Gavin doesn't hurt his knee more in the night, but they both know it's more than that.

–-

Michael rolls over one morning and comes face-to-face with a very awake Gavin, eyes wide and staring straight into Michael's own. Michael blinks lazily and Gavin comes into sleepy focus, strangely alert even thought it's – god, it must be early, there's no sunshine edging around the curtains.

“Gav?” He asks - more like croaks – and when he shifts his shoulder presses against Gavin's bare one, sleep-warm and solid.

“Go back to sleep,” Gavin says. “'M fine.”

Michael turns onto his side and his arm brushes against Gavin's and he gets the crazy, insane urge to kiss him, a combination of early morning bad decisions and the heist aftermath. It scares him, beats something into his chest but he doesn't move, counting Gavin's lashes to distract himself. Gavin just stares coolly back, half his face hidden by the pillow but if Michael scoots closer he can feel Gavin's breath puffing out over his lips.

Gavin's eyes flick down to his lips and back up.

Michael decides early morning bad decisions can go fuck themselves.

Michael watches Gavin's eyes close moments before he shuts his own, moments before he presses his lips to Gavin's.

Gavin's hand flies to Michael's arm as Michael pulls away, looking into wide blue-green eyes and wondering how long they have until the sun comes out.

“Gav - “

“Do it again,” Gavin says, nervously gripping Michael's arm. “Please.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees softly, and it's easier the second time.

He falls back to sleep a few minutes later, Gavin's arm over his waist and no more than inches between their faces.

–-

It's not awkward in the morning, not like Michael expects it to be. He wakes up with Gavin curled around him, injured leg pressed up against Michael's thigh, and Michael feels like maybe he should be reacting right now, running away, at least leaving the bed.

But he doesn't want to move at all. Gavin's breath puffs out over his chest in slow, shallow bursts and he looks – content. It's maybe the most peaceful he's looked since the heist, between helping the others and caring for himself, and Michael doesn't want to ruin that.

He does want to piss, though.

Michael sighs and Gavin shifts, tucking his face into the crook of Michael's neck and shoulder.

Michael decides his bladder can wait.

–-

They don't tell the others.

There's not really anything _to_ tell. Michael still sleeps in Gavin's room and still bandages his leg, but now there's goodnight kisses mixed in there as well.

Geoff shoots them a few looks and Michael knows he suspects something, and he wouldn't be wrong. But Michael's pretty damn sure he passed the friendship line a few kisses ago – maybe a few _months_ ago – and he's pretty damn all right with that.

–-

Ryan awakes with a start and Michael immediately leans over to grab his arm to stop the thrashing, talking quickly to remind Ryan where he is and pull him out of the nightmare. It's one of the rare nights where Michael is watching Ryan overnight – Jack banished Ray to his room to actually get some sleep so Michael took this shift.

Ryan turns wide eyes on him and gropes for Michael's other hand – Michael offers it immediately and Ryan holds too tight, closing his eyes as he relaxes back into the bed. It's a little jarring, having both his hands on Ryan, one of them _in_ Ryan's, because Ryan's the least touchy out of all of them, the most likely to push away Geoff's drunken tactility and the least likely to wrap an arm around Gavin's shoulder.

Michael scoots closer and Ryan lets him go a handful of seconds later. There's blood seeping through the bandages again.

“You okay?” Michael asks, low and quiet in the almost darkness. He doesn't expect an answer – Ryan doesn't ever talk about his nightmares, even though they all now he has them and they all know they're bad.

“They were hurting you,” Ryan whispers, pressing a hand to his eyes. “All of you.”

“Who?” Michael asks. Ryan shakes his head and swallows audibly, his forearm flexing under Michael's palm.

“They were _torturing_ you,” Ryan spits. His fist clenches on his thigh and Michael tentatively strokes his thumb over Ryan's arm.

“It was just a nightmare,” Michael says carefully, although he knows too well just how vivid the motherfuckers can be, and with Ryan's background, how realistic they can be.

“Can we – watch something?” Ryan asks quietly, dropping his hand and opening his eyes to meet Michael's. Michael doesn't like the strange vulnerability in them.

Michael nods and Ryan sighs in relief, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Michael relocates to the other side of the bed, climbing in to sit beside Ryan and picking up the TV remote on the way.

Ryan's shoulder presses a little heavily into his but Michael doesn't say anything. It's nice.

–-

“How'd the heist go? In the end?” Michael asks, glancing over at Geoff as he holds down the respawn button. Geoff scoffs and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“All this and you're asking about the _heist_?” He says. “Crazy motherfucker.”

Michael shrugs. “Well?”

Geoff sighs and rubs his knee, staring blankly at the Level Completed screen.

“It was fine,” he replies, flat and plain, but there's something a little too one-dimensional about it.

Ray snorts from the other side of Geoff and scrolls idly through the menu. “Fine? Don't fucking lie, Geoff.”

“Geoff?” Michael asks, but Geoff just shakes his head mutely and swigs his beer to avoid answering.

“It was fucking terrible,” Ray says, looking briefly at Michael. “After you went down we pulled out.”

“Wait, so - “ Michael waves a hand uselessly around them “ - all _this_ happened while you were retreating?”

“Well, yeah,” Ray says simply. He looks down at his controller, mouth twisted into a slight frown. “And now I can't fucking walk.”

Michael doesn't really know what to say, so he doesn't say anything, just lets that hover in the air between them like a sheet of sugar glass.

“Well!” Geoff exclaims, forcing a chuckle that doesn't quite make it, “You guys wanna do another map?”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael says. Ray stays silent but nods and leans back into the sofa as Geoff cycles through maps.

–-

There's a lot more to the story than what Michael was told. And he figures out through bits and snippets of conversations that the crew retreat was not as clean-cut as they led him to believe.

Not that it's their fault. Michael isn't sure he wants to know what he knows now.

“Why didn't you guys tell me what really happened?” Michael asks one night, turning his head on the pillow to look at Gavin's ear. Gavin makes an unhappy noise and doesn't show his face, keeping it firmly buried in the pillow.

“Gav, come on.” Michael nudges his shoulder and shuffles closer to blow out an annoying stream of breath over Gavin's ear. Gavin squeaks and flinches, kicking Michael in the shin.

“Like what?” Gavin asks. Michael shrugs and rolls to drape an arm over Gavin's bare waist.

“You all got hurt trying to cover me,” he says quietly.

“We didn't want you to feel, y'know, guilty,” Gavin says. And then, like he knows what Michael's about to say, he turns to look him in the eye and says, “It wasn't your fault.”

“But it _is_ ,” Michael insists. “If I hadn't been a fucking idiot and tried to take _both_ cops - “

“It's not,” Gavin protests. “Don't blame yourself.”

“But Gav – “

“We don't regret it,” Gavin says, and then pauses. “At least, I don't.” And promptly scoots closer to Michael and closes his eyes, clearly tired and clearly ready to sleep.

Michael's eyebrows knit but he lets the conversation drop, flipping onto his back to let Gavin settle against his side.

He spends most of the night staring up at the ceiling, looking at white paint but only seeing half-remembered memories from the heist.

–-

Ryan hobbles out of his room a week later with Geoff as support and collapses in the kitchen.

Cutlery clatters onto plates as Michael and Jack rush to help him up, easing him into a chair as Ryan grumbles and swears and tries to bat them away.

“I'm fucking fine,” Ryan snaps when Geoff asks for the twentieth time if he's sure he's okay, and as Michael eyes the bandages visible just under Ryan's sleeves and collar, a twinge of guilt goes through him. The gauze is there because of _him_. Ryan's permanently scarred because of _him_. The thought leaves a sour taste in Michael's mouth and he wordlessly pushes his unfinished plate towards Gavin, who shoots him a look but takes the extra strips of bacon nonetheless.

“Michael, you good to help me fix vehicles today?” Jack asks, and Michael nods dumbly, pressing on a bruise on his arm to maybe push the guilt away with dull pain. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

Jack smiles and Michael hollowly returns it.

–-

The guilt twists up inside his chest, around his ribs, squeezing tight enough he can't breathe and choking him from the inside out. Michael hates it.

At midnight, he boldly knocks on Ryan's closed door.

“Yeah,” comes the response, and Michael quietly lets himself in, shutting the door behind him and standing awkwardly in front of it, curling his toes into the carpet.

“Hey,” Ryan says. The only light in the room comes from the lamp on his bedside table, warm and inviting and the complete opposite of what Michael feels right now. There's still blood on the bandages – less, but still there, red and obvious and only making the guilt worse. Michael _made_ him like this.

“Hey,” Michael says shakily. Ryan furrows his brow and puts his phone down, looking curiously at Michael.

Michael glances at the cot by his bed, empty tonight because Ryan doesn't need as much supervision anymore. He makes his way over to it, sitting down gingerly on it and fixing his gaze on the floor instead of on Ryan's concerned expression. He doesn't deserve pity, not now. Not after what he's _done_.

“I, uh - “ he starts, nervously rubbing the back of his neck “I wanted to – apologise. For what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

Michael looks up and out towards the window across the bed from him, licking his lips as he thinks what to say.

“For what happened to you,” he says. “I'm sorry.”

Ryan turns slightly to face him better where he's stretched out on the bed and Michael's eyes flick to the pink scar skin that peeks out from under the bandage. Pink and healing but all Michael can see is the moment of impact from the gory footage he found online, taken by the police choppers and never published, but it's not exactly hard to hack the police database.

Michael sees Ryan's skin and in his mind sees metal embedding itself into it, a scorched piece of a blown up LSPD car blasted right into Ryan's hip. The shrapnel blown straight into Ryan's entire right side, knocking him off the bike and into broken glass as Geoff hauled Michael from wreckage. The video was blurry but Michael can too easily fill in the gaps, the pain and the screams as metal tore through Ryan's body and made him bleed all over the back of Jack's car. The stench of spilled blood and the heat of near-death.

“Why are you sorry? It wasn't your fault,” Ryan says, and he seems _genuinely confused_. But then again, Ryan's always been a good liar.

“You were covering me,” Michael explains. “Because I did a stupid and got myself knocked out.”

“What, you think that's the first time I've covered you guys when someone does something idiotic?” Ryan asks with a raised eyebrow. Michael almost laughs. Almost.

“But I fucking – you nearly died, Ryan. And now you're – you're scarred for _life_.”

“So?” Ryan asks, plain and simple and _easy_ and Michael doesn't like it being so _easy_.

“So you shouldn't have done it!” Michael gestures angrily to the room around them, trying to indicate – _something_ , he doesn't know what. “You shouldn't have done that for me!”

“Too bad, I did.” And he's so _casual_ about it it makes Michael want to pull out his hair.

“But – Ryan, it wasn't – you shouldn't risk your fucking life for me!”

“Why not?”

“Because – Because - “ Michael flounders for a good answer, something that someone like Ryan will believe, but he can't come up with anything that doesn't sound like a sob story. “I don't know, but you shouldn't.” He hangs his head and stares uselessly at his fingers, wishing vaguely that he could press a rewind button and undo all this.

“Michael,” Ryan says softly.

“ _Michael_ ,” he says again, stronger this time, when Michael doesn't answer. “Michael, look at me.”

Michael does.

“I'm only going to say this once, so you better be fucking paying attention.”

Michael nods numbly, focused on the sudden intensity of Ryan's eyes, the determination in the slant of his eyebrows.

“None of what happened was your fault.”

Michael opens his mouth to protest and Ryan holds up a finger, giving him a warning glare.

“Only saying this once,” he reminds Michael. Michael closes his dumb mouth.

“And I would do it again,” Ryan says, and relaxes a little, dropping his hand to his lap again. “So shut up.”

Michael glances at his hands again and swallows thickly. “So you don't – you don't blame me for what happened to you?”

“You weren't the one holding the fucking grenade launcher,” Ryan replies. “So how the fuck could I?”

Michael can't think of a good protest, so he just smiles a little and ducks his head. He wants to thank Ryan, but this conversation's already getting on the sappy side for them. Anyway, he thinks Ryan gets it, judging by his decisive nod.

Michael starts to stand up but Ryan gestures at the bed and says “Stay here.” Not a request, an invitation. Michael hesitates.

“What, you gonna refuse a poor, bedridden soul?” Ryan asks, a teasing little smile playing on his lips.

And, well, Michael thinks, how the fuck could he?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there isn't enough shown communication here, but I want you all to know I fully intend that all proper relationship communication has been made and taken care of. Also remember that communication is important just in general! Thanks for reading!

“Rise and shine, it's time to make money!” Geoff shouts, banging on each of their doors in turn as he walks down the hallway. “Gavin, you have five minutes to get your butt in here or else!”

Gavin groans sleepily into Michael's shoulder, somehow making himself seem _heavier_ – maybe an evolutionary byproduct of his to encourage people to let him use them as body pillows. In this case, Michael.

Michael yanks his arm out from under Gavin's head and laughs as Gavin's head _thumps_ to the mattress, making him groan again and fumble for Michael, who dodges easily and swings his legs out of the bed.

“You heard Geoff, five minutes or he'll stick his finger up your butt again,” Michael teases, ripping the blanket off of Gavin and harshly pulling open the curtains to flood the room with sunlight.

“I hate you, you bastard,” Gavin grumbles, and Michael just laughs as he heads to the ensuite.

–-

“Ray, what you doing today?” Michael asks as he rifles through a weapons bag on the dining table. “Since you can't come with Gav and me.”

Ray smiles and looks up at Michael from where they're sitting and he's leaning against Ryan's left side – Ryan's a little stiff on his right side, but he doesn't push Ray away.

“Oh, dude, I'm getting my foot re-broken today,” he says, far too cheerfully for that sort of statement. Gavin pulls a face next to Michael and Ryan chuckles, showing Ray something on his phone.

“Ryan's coming with me to help,” Ray says.

“Yeah, I'll probably have to help break it.”

Gavin pulls another, more exaggerated face and Ryan cracks up looking at it, shaking his head at Gavin's full-body shiver.

“God, that's so _weird_ ,” Gavin says. “ _Purposely_ breaking a bone.”

“Well yeah, that's how you fix it, Gav,” Michael replies, snapping a fresh clip into a pistol.

“I know, but you'd think they could just – realign it right the first time.”

“You can blame Jack for that,” Ray says dryly.

“Blame me for _what_?!” Comes the shriek from the kitchen, and Michael laughs so hard he snorts.

“Anyway, we're going to a real doctor this time,” Ray says.

Michael cocks an eyebrow. “Real?”

“Legit, yeah.”

“So how long will that take to heal?” Gavin asks.

“Probably another month or two. But I'll be high as fuck later 'cause of those painkillers.”

“Save some for me,” Michael says, winking as he zips up the bag.

“'Course, can't leave my JO sesh partner out, can I?” Ray laughs.

–-

Ryan's right side mainly becomes a collection of sizeable jagged scars, the worst one a bolt of white down his ribs. Geoff slams a tub of scar cream onto the table and instructs him to use it – Ryan rolls his eyes but takes it anyway. The stuff fucking _stinks_ , thick and cloying and Michael doesn't know how Ryan manages with it at night. But it is a very good indicator of Ryan's location.

And right now the smell indicates he's in the garage, where the scent of scar cream lingers heavily by the garage door and only intensifies when Michael opens it and steps in.

“Ryan, it's way too early to work on cars,” Michael complains as he closes the door, collapsing in the nearest fold-out chair and yawning wide. Ryan glances at him from where he's leant over the open hood of his Zentorno, raising an eyebrow.

“Then why are you awake?” He asks. Michael shrugs and looks around the garage, now a lot more in order than it was two months ago.

“Woke up and couldn't go back to sleep,” he says. Ryan nods and goes back to his engine, fiddling with a spark plug. It's mostly the truth - Michael woke up with Gavin gone – probably out with Geoff – and when he couldn't fall back asleep, rapidly came to the conclusion that he's become too used to sleeping with another body in the bed. So here he is, awake and not quite alert, blinking blearily at the bright fluorescents in the garage.

“There's croissants in the kitchen if you want,” Ryan says, wiping away grease with a dirty rag.

“When the fuck did we get so fancy?” Michael asks – yawns – rubbing at his chin. Ryan shrugs.

“When I was at the store and they were on sale.”

Michael's loud laugh seems to startle Ryan and he drops his screwdriver into the engine, swearing under his breath as he dives down to fish it out. It only makes Michael laugh harder.

–-

Michael actually, finally, does the _deed_ with Gavin. He chooses a date when everyone else is out of the penthouse and even puts a sock on his door after he leads Gavin in and locks it behind him.

And it's about as great as he expects – he's inexperienced with Gavin, but Gavin shows him what he likes (a very _hands-on_ demonstration that Michael gladly participates in) and there's laughter and teasing and Michael gets Gavin moaning under him, clutching at his hair and the bedsheets as Michael pants and tries his best to keep himself propped up over Gavin. His arm gives out just after he comes and Gavin whinges but still lets Michael kiss him.

It's some of the best sex Michael's ever had.

And afterwards, when they're all sweaty and gross – _Michael, you got lube all fucking over me –_ Michael finds himself tired and satisfied and not regretting a single thing.

And even later, even once everybody's back, there's a round two with the added challenge of not waking anybody up.

Michael's not sure how well they do with that.

–-

Ray butts up next to Michael on the sofa and steals his Red Bull, taking generous swigs as Michael side-eyes him.

“You good there?” He asks, flicking his eyes back to the TV, where he's beating Gavin in Party Hard.

“Thirsty,” Ray replies, and then goes for Gavin's drink, chugging it like he's dehydrating. Gavin squawks as he dies in-game and Ray smacks his lips exaggeratedly, leaning back with a sigh. He's moved on from cast to boot, a thick plastic and foam contraption that honestly looks more like a bionic leg than a medical tool.

“How's it doing?” Michael asks, gesturing to his leg. “How long left?”

“One and a half months,” Ray says, stretching. “Then I can finally ride my bike again.”

“Hey, what you playing?” Jack asks, coming up behind the sofa to lean over Michael.

“Party Hard,” Michael replies, glancing up at him. “You want a turn next?”

“Yeah, sure, I'll party,” Jack says, walking around the sofa to plop down on the other side of Gavin.

“Ray, you wanna try?” Michael asks, holding his controller out as he dies. Ray shrugs and takes it.

“Sure,” he says. “What am I doing?”

“Killing everyone without being caught,” Gavin says.

“Okay, so basically my life,” Ray deadpans.

–-

Michael waltzes into Geoff's room – open door but he still knocks as he comes in – and lies down on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and sighing loudly.

“You need something?” Geoff asks, swivelling around in his chair to peer at Michael.

“Nah. Just bored,” Michael says, kicking his feet against the side of the bed. “How're you?”

“I'm fine.” Geoff scrutinises him for a moment and folds his arms, leaning back in his chair. Michael tosses him a wink and Geoff's mouth twists in an amused smile as he keeps staring at Michael.

“You're banging Gavin, aren't you?” He asks after a short while.

Michael freezes for a second and feels his cheeks turn hot as he looks up at the ceiling.

“Uh. Did he tell you?”

Geoff shakes his head. “No, it's pretty obvious.”

“Oh. Well, uh, yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No, just wondering.” Geoff spins back around and Michael kicks his legs again, humming out a random tune as Geoff types.

“How long?” Geoff asks, suddenly turning again.

“Since the - “ Michael waves a hand uselessly above him “ - the fucked up heist.”

Geoff narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “You realise if you screw this up, it'll fuck up the crew.”

Michael doesn't respond, keeps his gaze glued straight up. “Do you want me to end it?”

“No, god no, not if it's making you both happy,” Geoff says, scooting closer. “I just - I want you to be careful, that's all.”

“Are you giving me the dad shotgun speech?”

“I'm not that creepy, Michael.”

Michael shrugs. “Debatable.”

–-

Ryan's at breakfast one day with a bandaged hand and _hick_ _ey_ _s_. They're faint and almost covered by his T-shirt, but not quite, and as soon as they're noticed Michael and Gavin and Ray are 'ooh'ing loudly in unison.

“Ryan got some!” Michael shouts, laughing at the faint blush that tinges Ryan's cheeks. “Ryan got fucking laid!”

“Ryan's slaying the puss!” Ray hollers, and Gavin's cackling enters the mix of hooting.

Jack doesn't say anything and Ryan glances slyly at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile as their eyes meet.

“Oh my god, Jack?!” Ray yells, slamming his hands on the table. “It was fucking _Jack_?!”

“Ryan, you fucking _dog_ ,” Michael laughs, snorting unattractively into his orange juice. “You _have_ to tell us about it.”

“There's nothing to tell,” Ryan says, grabbing his toast and coming to sit with them at the table.

“Who topped?” Ray asks, leaning in on his elbows.

“Who the fuck do you think?” Jack asks as he sits down next to Ryan, who ducks his head a little at the round of whooping that ensues.

“Okay, okay, what the fuck is happening here?!” Geoff yells when he walks in, raising a hand as if he'll get silence.

“Jack and Ryan fucked!” Michael yells back, and Geoff's eyes go wide as his mouth drops open.

“ _No_ ,” he says, completely disbelieving. “Oh my god, I don't fucking believe it. You two?!”

“Yes, us two,” Jack says, rolling his eyes as he takes out his phone. “It's not that surprising.”

“I mean – yeah, it is, I mean – I thought Ryan was straight and narrow and – well, Jack, I just thought you were a sexless creature,” Geoff says.

“Oh, he's definitely not,” Ryan replies, smirking as he reaches for his coffee.

“You _cock_ sucker,” Geoff says, still amazed, as he sits down without even getting breakfast. “Wait, who was the cocksucker?”

“Ryan,” Ray says confidently. “It's definitely Ryan.”

“What, it couldn't be me?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. “Ray, you insult me.”

“Jack, when have you ever met a full-bearded dicksucker?”

Jack laughs heartily and nods, conceding Ray's point.

“So who - “ Gavin coughs into his arm and tries again, swallowing first this time. “Who's room didya do it in?”

“Jack's,” Ryan says.

“You _cock_ suckers,” Geoff whispers, with feeling.

“You good there, Geoff?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Geoff says, turning his gaze to Michael. His eyes snap to Jack and Ryan and narrow accusingly as he asks, “When did this happen?”

“Uh, what?” Jack replies.

“D'you want me to keep a logbook or something?” Ryan asks.

“Are you okay there, Geoff?” Ray asks, “You look a little traumatised.”

“No, no, I'm good, I just – I can't _believe_ it, Jack.”

“Geoff, you've seen me pick up people before.”

“Yeah, but, I always figured you, like, I don't know, just went to pet their cats.”

Michael snorts and Gavin almost chokes on his food as Jack laughs and Ryan chuckles – Geoff keeps a straight face through it, but there's the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Pet that pussy,” Ray says, and Michael nearly doubles over.

–-

Geoff assigns them new jobs and Gavin shuts himself in his room to work on the warehouse cameras. Michael leaves snacks and drinks outside his door and retreats to Ray's room because he refuses to acknowledge that he's having trouble falling asleep alone.

“Hey,” Ray says as Michael slips past his ajar door, coming to sit beside Ray at the head of the bed. Ray moves one ear of his headphones but still focuses on his DS, shifting his leg so Michael can settle in.

Michael leans against Ray's shoulder and watches him play for a bit, bringing up one leg to rest his elbow on it. Ray obligingly tilts the screen so he can see better.

“Aren't you usually asleep by now?” Ray asks between levels. Michael shrugs and turns his head a little – his ear brushes Ray's and Ray tenses for a moment, his eyes darting over to Michael's. They flick down Michael's face and refocus back on his eyes, something almost like a question in the angle of his eyebrows. Michael's breath hitches and he almost – leans in, maybe, or says something, but Ray's eyes slide away and the moment's gone. Michael ignores his sudden clammy palms.

“Yeah,” he says lamely, and Ray starts a new level. They sit in silence for another minute before Ray speaks up again.

“But Gavin's locked himself in his room,” he says plainly. Michael nods and Ray glances at him again, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You can stay here tonight,” he offers quietly, pointedly not looking at Michael now. His shoulder rises and falls against Michael's. “If you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Ray says, flashing a quick smile that seems more forced than easy. But if anyone would tell Michael to get the fuck out, it would be Ray. “You can help me get up to piss in the morning,” Ray adds, and Michael laughs a little – that makes Ray's smile more genuine.

“I'll get you a bottle,” he says, and Ray pulls a face.

–-

Michael walks past Ryan's open – _open –_ door, and it surprises him enough to make him stop dead in his tracks, peering in curiously. Ryan glances up from where he's rebandaging his hand and offers a quick wave that Michael returns with no small amount of confusion. He's only seen the inside of Ryan's room maybe twice, not counting the nurse duty, and he's still caught by the simplicity of it, white walls and dark bedsheets and the only sign of personality the slightly messy desk pushed against the wall.

“Why's your door open?” Michael asks, leaning against the doorframe and watching as Ryan tapes gauze down.

“I'm trying something,” Ryan says, closing the medkit and shoving it back into a drawer, standing up from the bed to head over to his desk. Michael nods and looks around the room again, at the bare walls and impersonal bedside table.

“You should get some decoration in here,” Michael says. “Posters and shit.”

“What, you want me to hang my guns on the wall?”

“I said decoration, not intimidation.”

“Well, let me know if you find anything nice to put in here,” Ryan says, starting up his computer.

“I'll keep an eye out.” Michael shoves his hands into his pockets. “Hey, so I'm going out with Gavin and Geoff, you want to come with?”

“Out?”

“Yeah, to like a nightclub or some shit.”

“Nah, thanks, I'm good.” Ryan bends down to turn something else on and glances at Michael over his shoulder. “Have fun, though.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Michael says, pushing off of the doorframe to leave.

–-

Michael kisses Ray on top of a building while they're hiding out after a job.

It kind of just – happens. They're sitting against an AC unit, pressed close together against the chill of the night wind, and Ray laughs at something Michael says and Michael turns and just – something strikes him, a potential missed opportunity, and he leans in the extra two inches or so and presses his lips to Ray's. He doesn't know what this says about him. He doesn't really want to think about it.

Ray freezes but kisses him back a second later, dropping his pistol between his splayed legs to cup Michael's cheek, his fingers cold with the biting wind. Michael pulls back to breathe and maybe apologise – but then he looks at Ray and there's a small, genuine smile on his lips, one that _Michael_ put there. A similar feeling strikes Michael in the chest again, but this time it's base instinct pure attraction. He kisses Ray again. Ray's hand moves to curl fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Michael hates that he can't stop, fast addicted to the warmth of Ray and he wants to blame it on the unusually cold night, but it's so much more than that at this point.

“What about Gavin?” Ray asks later, when they're driving away in Michael's car. Michael's tongue goes thick and clumsy and he runs a hand through his hair.

“I don't know,” he says hoarsely, tightening his hands on the wheel. “I don't fucking know.” But he can't quite bring himself to think it was a mistake.

–-

Michael breaks and tells Gavin two nights later, murmuring the terrible secret into his hair and inwardly hoping that Gavin doesn't push him straight out of the bed. He'd deserve it, though. But Gavin just laughs, something sounding like relief rushing out of him and Michael frowns.

“Gav?”

“I wasn't sure how to tell you,” Gavin says. “But, uh, Geoff actually, y'know, tried to kiss me last week.”

“Tried?”

Gavin's face goes hot next to Michael's skin and Michael tightens his arm around Gavin.

“I let him,” Gavin says quietly, and Michael gets a terrible feeling tight in his chest. “I liked it.”

“Do you want to...break up?” Michael asks hesitantly, quietly, holding his breath for Gavin's answer.

“No – no, god no,” Gavin says immediately, pulling back to look at Michael's face. “But – what if we...had more people?”

“In a relationship?”

Gavin shrugs and looks at Michael's chin. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Because - “ Michael frowns again when he can't think of anything and Gavin glances at him expectantly. _Because it could go wrong. Because it could be messy_. But anything could go wrong and everything's messy with them. “I don't know.”

“Well – let's try it,” Gavin says. “See how it goes.” _See how it goes_. Isn't that just the story of their lives?

“Okay,” Michael agrees, despite his doubts and his fears because there's nothing that can match the beaming smile Gavin gives him at his answer. He still needs to apologise to Gavin and he stills needs to talk to him, but for now he can kiss him and pretend like it'll all be much easier than he knows it will be.

–-

In a strange turn of events, it's actually just as easy as Michael pretended.

It takes a week to gather his nerves but on a slow Saturday night, he invites Ray to their bed – originally Michael's bed, but Gavin's in it so often it's becomes _theirs_ – and Ray says yes. Just like that. Like there's no anxiety gripping Michael's lungs tight and making his pulse race, like it's seamless to go from friends to – whatever.

Michael wonders if maybe it isn't that hard at all.

It's a little awkward because Ray's foot is still booted and healing, but the laughter comes easy and they fall into a sort of flow that distinctly reminds Michael of his first time kissing Ray, cold and tired and pressed up against an AC. But this time it's better, much better, especially with Gavin just next to them, pulling Michael away so he can kiss him, too.

Michael finds out that Ray's a little bossy in bed, manhandling Gavin to where he wants him and pushing Michael's hands away when he gets oversensitive and Michael knows immediately that he's definitely going to have to explore this side of Ray more. Gavin agrees easily and his casual “gonna have to do this more often, yeah?” brings a certain relief, it seems, to Ray.

Gavin tells Ray he can stay the night and Ray accepts with this small, sincere smile that Michael hasn't seen in too long. He finds himself matching it as he kisses Ray goodnight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up, this is tentatively ending at six chapters, but I might stretch it to a seventh. Thanks for reading!

“D'you think I should buy the new Carbon?” Gavin asks, tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrates on the game.

“You'll wreck it in, like, five minutes,” Ray says. His boot's finally off, so he's got his leg curled up on the sofa and looks a lot more comfortable than he did last week.

“You don't know that!” Gavin protests.

“We pretty much do, though,” Ryan says, leaning forward to grab his Diet Coke. “You crashed the Akuma twenty minutes after Geoff gave it to you.”

“First of all, that wasn't my fault. The car crashed into _me_.”

“Well, maybe he wouldn't have if you weren't driving on the _wrong side of the street_ ,” Ryan retorts. Michael laughs at Gavin's ensuing spluttering.

“That's not the _point_ , Ryan. The bloody bastard rammed right into me!”

“Yeah, because you were going sixty on the left side!”

“Gav, that's pretty much the definition of your fault,” Michael comments while reloading.

“He should have stopped for me!” Gavin says, devolving into incoherent shouting as he fights someone off.

“It was a suburban street!” Ryan says the same time Ray shouts “What the _fuck_ , Gavin?!” As _Gavinofree killed BrownMan_ pops up on the right side of the screen. “We're on the _same fucking team_!” He continues. Gavin immediately gets gunned down by enemies and Ray drops his controller, tossing his hands dramatically into the air. “What, you kill me and then _die_? You're fucking useless!”

Gavin's trying his best to hold in his deranged giggling, squeaking as Ray reaches over to shove him into the arm of the sofa.

“Behave, boys,” Ryan says calmly, and Ray flips him off.

“Make me,” he spits.

–-

Geoff grins smugly as he sits down at breakfast, right across from where Michael's scooping egg into his mouth and Ray's halfway through a poptart.

“What?” Michael asks with his mouth full. If Gavin was here, he'd complain about how gross that is, but the fucker's out on a job, so he can suck it.

“Oh, nothing,” Geoff says in a way that says there definitely _is_ something. “I just spent some _quality_ time with the Vagabond last night,” he continues, his grin turning filthy as he winks at them. Michael gasps and Ray's poptart falls right out of his mouth onto his plate as they stare at Geoff.

“You're shitting us,” Ray says. Geoff shakes his head and drinks his coffee.

Ryan walks in and stops behind Geoff just before he gets to the table, his gaze flicking from Geoff to Michael and Ray.

“No shame, huh?” Ryan asks Geoff as he pulls a chair out, grabbing a cereal box and a bowl and a spoon before he sits down.

“Nope,” Geoff chirps, smirking at Ryan. “I'm feeling puh-retty good about last night,” he says, stretching his arms out to the sides.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Ryan mumbles, pouring cereal out. “Especially when you passed out right afterwards.”

“Hey, I was a pretty generous lover before that,” Geoff points out, and Ryan raises his eyebrows and shrugs in that _I'll give you that_ manner of his.

“Ryan's a slut,” Ray says, and promptly stuff his poptart back in his mouth.

“And is that a problem?” Ryan asks, cocking an eyebrow. Ray shrugs.

“No.”

“Good,” Ryan says, setting down the box before leaning back dangerously far in his chair to pry open the fridge and grab milk.

“How was it?” Michael asks.

“A gentleman never tells,” Ryan says just as Geoff says “Fucking awesome.”

“You are truly shameless, aren't you?” Ryan asks, shaking his head at Geoff's wide smile and opening the milk carton. “God knows why I decided to sleep with you.”

“Because I'm your boss and you want to please me in every way.”

“Well, it's definitely not that,” Ryan says, and Michael and Ray crack up at Geoff's offended gasp.

“Fuck you, I'm demoting you,” Geoff threatens. Ryan simply smirks and stirs his cereal.

“Yeah, and I'm sure they - “ he gestures to Michael and Ray “ - would love to hear all about the little leather fetish you've got.”

“Leather fetish?” Michael and Ray ask in unison.

“Shut up,” Geoff mutters quickly, flushing faintly as he shoots a glare at Ryan, who just smiles sweetly.

–-

Michael viciously tickle-attacks Gavin after he fucks Michael up in Crossy Road and his bright, squealing laughter echoes around the room, loud and high-pitched as he tries to wriggle away. Michael pins him down by sitting on his hips and Gavin bucks up to try and escape, but to no avail because Michael's heavier than him and definitely stronger than him.

“You fuck!” Michael shouts, pinning Gavin's hands above his head with one hand and skating the fingers of his other hand over his ribs and under his armpits. “You asshole!”

“Michael – Michael, stop!” Gavin squeaks, laughing so hard the corners of his eyes are wet. “Michael, I'm gonna piss myself!”

“Yeah, you'd fucking deserve it, too,” Michael says, switching his tickling fingers to a flat palm resting on Gavin's chest because as funny as it would be to see Gavin piss himself, Michael's kind of sitting where the wet spot would be. And he does not feel like getting pissed on today. “Fucking idiot.”

Gavin hiccups with laughter and wriggles a hand out of Michael's hold to place it on the back of his neck and pull him down – Michael shuts his stupid (stupidly nice) giggling with a kiss, shifting to press more fully against him. Gavin turns his head to cough and Michael rolls his eyes, knocking his forehead against Gavin's.

“Idiot,” he says fondly. Gavin smiles brightly up at him and Michael's breath hitches.

He should tell him.

It's probably the entire wrong time to do it.

“I love you,” he says. Gavin freezes and his smile falters a little the longer the silence stretches on.

“You mean it?” He asks. Michael rolls his eyes again and ignores the blush he can feel on his cheeks as he speaks.

“Of course I mean it.”

Gavin beams and kisses him again – Michael pulls away a moment later.

“Well, do you have, like, an answer or something?” He asks. “'Cause, you know, I'd like to know if I fucked this up or whatever.”

“No, no, I – y'know, - I love you too,” Gavin says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“'Course I do, you dope.”

Michael can't help the wide smile on his face at the admission and Gavin flushes but smiles sincerely up at him. Michael gets an idea.

“How much?” He asks, smirking evilly. Gavin's eyebrows knit and his mouth twists in a question.

“What do you mean?”

“Enough to let me do...this?!” Michael asks as he starts tickling Gavin again, mercilessly attacking his armpits and making him screech in surprise.

“No! Michael!” He screams, trying valiantly to get away. Michael pins him harder and continues exacting he revenge.

“Not enough for that!” Gavin shouts, and Michael laughs gleefully.

–-

Michael wakes up with a pounding hangover to the sound of Gavin falling out of the bed. He can't even find the energy to laugh at him, but he does offer a wheezing chuckle that earns him a croaky “Screw you” that makes him chuckle more.

As they're making their way down the hallway, using the walls as support, Gavin stumbles and nearly makes them both topple over. He falls into Michael and Michael goes to plant a hand on Jack's door to push them upright again when it opens and Michael stumbles to the side, sluggishly regaining his bearings before looking up and seeing Ray in the doorway to Jack's room, hair mussed and clothes messy. There's a sprinkling of hickeys around the base of his throat.

“Uh,” he says. “Hi?”

“Please tell me those came from Jack and I didn't molest you last night,” Michael says, pointing to the hickeys because he _remembers_ sucking on someone's neck but he doesn't remember _who_ , and Gavin doesn't have any marks, which means Michael either started biting a stranger or someone at the penthouse.

“They're Jack's,” Ray replies, stepping out of the doorway and closing the door behind him. “He's showering right now.”

“Who the _fuck_ did I make out with last night, then?” Michael wonders aloud, rubbing his temple in an attempt to fight back the throbbing ache.

“Maybe Geoff?” Gavin says, swaying a little on his feet and grabbing Michael's arm.

“You guys are dehydrated as fuck,” Ryan says behind them, and Michael jumps. He didn't even _hear_ the guy approach them.

“That's one word for it,” Michael admits. “Another word is _had fun_.”

“That's two words,” Ryan says simply as he comes around to guide them to the kitchen. Ray follows next to them, looping an arm through Gavin's to help him.

Michael groans and rests his head on the table as Ryan cooks breakfast, trying to remember what the fuck happened last night. Whoever he was enthusiastically swapping spit with definitely had scruff, but right now everyone at the penthouse has facial hair of some sort. But it definitely wasn't a beard, so that counts out Jack. And Ray was with Jack, so not him.

“Ryan, did I molest you last night?” Michael asks as he accepts the plate Ryan puts down in front of him. Ryan shakes his head.

“I was out,” he says. “Up near Chiliad.”

Which only leaves Gavin, Geoff, or a stranger. But it isn't Gavin because even though he does have scruff right now – scruff that Michael finds _very_ attractive – there's no sign of anything on him, and Michael knows he left at least _one_ mark on whoever.

Gavin shrugs when he asks and Michael chugs water in hopes of clearing his head so he can actually remember.

–-

Geoff drags himself out of his room at lunch, and as soon as Michael sees him, he points accusingly at him and proclaims “It was you!”

“What? What was me?” Geoff asks, rubbing his cheek – his _scruffy_ cheek. Half of his hair is flattened against his scalp and the other half sticks up wildly.

“It was _you_ I made out with!” Michael continues, sitting up on the sofa. And _yes_ , there are the hickeys Michael remembers leaving, trailing down Geoff's neck like a dotted line.

“Oh, yeah, thanks for that, by the way,” Geoff says nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair as he heads to the kitchen. “Let's do it again when we're sober!” He calls.

Now that Michael's seen them, he remembers more of it – he remembers sloppily making out with Geoff in a corner at whatever nightclub they were at, Geoff's possessive hand on his thigh and Gavin pressed up hot against his other side, encouraging him with wet kisses to Michael's throat and fuck, Michael was damn close to public indecency there.

“Fuck,” he says with no real meaning. Ray nods and changes channels.

–-

Gavin's the one who suggests they – branch out a little. Not in a bad way, he explains, not because there's anything wrong. If Michael doesn't want to or doesn't want Gavin to, he can say no. But if he said yes, it would only be within the crew.

Michael teases Gavin about having the hots for Ryan and falls silent while he thinks. He's happy like they are now, but – he is also desperately curious. So he agrees. He trusts Gavin won't try to hurt him. Just like he promises himself he won't hurt Gavin.

Gavin grins and kisses him and assures him he can always say no if he wants to.

“Stop worrying,” Michael says, securing his hands around Gavin's hips and tugging him closer. “I'll let you know if I need to.”

“Promise?” Gavin asks, poking Michael's nose with his finger. Michael wrinkles his nose and Gavin laughs.

“Promise.”

–-

Michael notices the change two weeks later, when he's coming back from a job. He drops his guns on the table and shucks his bloody jacket as he walks down the hallway and he stops as soon as he realises what's different about the penthouse.

He looks up and down the hallway.

Everyone's doors are open, even Ryan's. Except Michael's, but that's because he was out. He peeks into Ray's room and he's not even there, but when Michael passes Ryan's room he sees Ray sitting on Ryan's bed, talking animatedly to Ryan about something. He waves as Michael goes by.

Michael's dumbstruck by the realisation, and as he opens his own door Gavin bounds up to him, holding something behind his back and bouncing on his heels.

“Gav?” Michael asks, walking into his room and not closing the door behind him.

“So you know what came out today?” Gavin asks, grinning. Michael furrows his brow and tries to think, but he can't come up with an answer.

“No?”

Gavin excitedly brandishes whatever he was holding behind his back – a video game.

“Wildlands!” Gavin says, and Michael laughs, taking the disc case to read the back of it.

“Oh my god, how could I forget?” He chuckles, smiling as Gavin presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

“We've already planned a game night tonight,” Gavin says. “Geoff's already got snacks. You in?”

“Uh, _duh_ , I'm in. When we starting?”

Gavin makes a show of checking his watch and tilts his head. “Oh, in half an hour or so. First ones there get to play first.”

“Oh fuck, I need to shower,” Michael says, pushing the game back into Gavin's hands and hurriedly stripping off his shirt. “You'd better not fucking steal my spot,” he threatens as he unbuckles his jeans, glaring at Gavin, who smiles innocently and rocks on the balls of his feet.

“No promises,” he says, and Michael narrows his eyes in warning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the kind of late update (even though I never had a schedule) - I had exams. But I had time to edit this, so here it is! Thanks for reading! (And to all those commenting - thank you so much for brightening my inbox with all your positivity!)

So everyone ends up banging everyone – it's like goddamn musical beds.

Not that it's not fucking _awesome_ , though.

Michael has a pretty amazing threesome with Geoff and Ryan, who push him into the bed and all but have their wicked way with him. And Ryan's an almost _insufferable_ cocktease, edging Michael until he's begging and that's where Geoff comes in, rough where Ryan's gentle and Michael _loves_ the contrast. He's honestly not sure he's ever come quicker in his life.

At first, they just keep it to their rooms, but it's not long until Michael's blowing Jack in the garage, backed up against his car and letting Jack pull on his hair as he groans Michael's name. Michael comes home and finds Ray and Ryan getting hot and heavy on the dining table – fully clothed, but Michael's not sure how long that'll last – with Ray sitting on the dining table, Ryan standing between his legs with his mouth on Ray's collarbone.

One of Geoff's favourite things is to wind Gavin up, especially at inconvenient times, like breakfast or in the middle of playing a game – but it works because Michael's favourite thing is to get Gavin off, gladly pulling him into his lap to help him along as Geoff runs his dirty mouth.

And that's another thing – from Geoff, Michael expects the dirty talk, but compared to Ryan, Geoff's _tame_. Ryan's got a _filthy_ mouth, rumbling dirty praise into Michael's neck or explaining just _exactly_ what he's going to do while he's kissing his way down Michael's body with a dark focus that makes him shiver. And another one Michael didn't expect was Ray, although he's more crude than seductive, but it and the name-calling - “fucking _slut_ ” and “fucking asking for it, aren't you?” - seem to work spectacularly for Ryan when someone's fucking him into the mattress.

Still, Michael finds himself falling asleep with Gavin most nights, warm and comfortable and familiar in a way the others aren't quite yet.

–-

That's how the next two or so months go. Geoff still plans almost ridiculous heists but now, instead of just waiting in boredom for the police to go away, there's a whole lot more options for entertainment.

In the penthouse, all the doors are open most of the time, even when Jack dislocates his shoulder and Michael helps him pop it back in and bandage up the bad scrapes along his upper arm. Michael sprains his ankle and complains profusely while Geoff tapes ice to it, scolding him for his idiocy and wondering aloud why the fuck this didn't happen to Gavin.

Michael busts a drug deal a week later with Ray, high-fiving him as he hops on the back of Ray's bike so they can escape – instead of reporting back to Geoff immediately, they end up watching the fireworks at the pier first. Michael buys them root beers and clinks his bottle to Ray's before he drinks, swinging his legs over the edge of the dock and enjoying how the sky lights up.

–-

“What the _hell_?!” Gavin screeches, shaking his controller as his character flails on the ground, reaching uselessly towards the finish line. Jack's been laughing since Gavin bailed and missed the finish, his shoulders shaking beside Michael. Geoff whoops as he finishes in third and Gavin groans loudly as the level ends. “I bailed out and _missed_!” He exclaims.

The next Trials level loads and Ray immediately flips as Jack and Geoff race by – Gavin respawns with Ray and Geoff curses up a storm as he bashes his head against a pipe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael sees Ryan scoot closer to Gavin and when he meets Ryan's eyes, Ryan gives him a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble.

The finish line appears on screen and Ryan quickly presses a button on Gavin's controller, bailing him out too early and Gavin's character flails on the ground again.

“ _Ryan_! You rotten bastard!” He screams, frantically trying to inch closer to the checkered line as Jack and Ray laugh loudly and Geoff almost chokes on his beer.

“I didn't do anything,” Ryan says, and Michael giggles at Gavin's frustrated, strangled squawk.

“I _hate_ you, Ryan, you're _awful_ ,” Gavin says.

“Hey, you wouldn't have finished first, anyway,” Jack says, and Gavin sticks his tongue out.

“I might've if Ryan wasn't such a bloody _prick_!” he shouts, glaring at Ryan.

“That was fucking amazing,” Geoff says through wacky giggling, wiping at his eyes. “Ryan, Ryan I love you.”

“He's a bloody menace!”

“Yes, but he's the menace helping me win,” Jack says. Gavin splutters and gestures wildly around the room – the movement makes the back of his controller come off and his batteries thud to the ground, sending them all into uproarious laughter as Gavin sighs and bends down to pick them up.

–-

Ryan takes a bullet in the shoulder for Michael and he has to help Jack dig it out. It's messy and bloody but fortunately the bullet's still in one piece, so Jack goes to clean the equipment and leaves Michael to clean and wrap the wound. Ryan doesn't even flinch at the burn of antiseptic. Afterwards, Michael sits next to him on the bed, avoiding leaning against his injured shoulder but pressing his thigh against Ryan's.

“You didn't have to do that,” Michael says. “It wouldn't have killed me.”

“Maybe not,” Ryan says.

“It was a fucking stupid move.”

“You're right,” Ryan admits. “But.” He shrugs and doesn't continue.

“But?”

Ryan looks somewhere slightly to his right, his jaw flexing as he thinks.

“I care about you,” he says. There's something more to his tone that tells Michael he doesn't just mean as a friend.

 _I care about you_.

Michael's mouth goes dry and _fuck_ , this was never supposed to happen – this was – _fuck_ – Michael swallows and his gaze drops to the scarring on Ryan's right side – some of the smaller scars have faded, but the big white ones are still there, a harsh reminder of what happened the last time Ryan cared. Of how he nearly _died_ trying to help Michael – Michael's lungs constrict at the reminder and he knows with sudden certainty that he – he can't let that happen again, he _can't_. He's not fucking _worth_ it.He panics and blurts out the first lie that comes to mind.

“It's not like that.”

Ryan stiffens and Michael forces himself to continue.

“It's just sex, Ryan,” he spits, a whole lot harsher than he meant and Ryan's jaw flexes again. Michael hates himself. He wants to take it all back.

“Get out,” Ryan says before he can speak. When Michael doesn't move, Ryan shoots him a glare. “Get. The fuck. Out,” he growls, low and dangerous with an undercurrent of angry hurt that crushes Michael's heart. It's too late to take anything back.

Michael slinks off back to his room and flinches at the sound of Ryan's door slamming shut.

–-

Ryan's door stays like that.

A day later Michael shuts his own and locks it, isolating himself from Gavin and ignoring his worried knocking.

He can't sleep. Or eat. Or talk or think or do anything like a normal human being and have functional relationships or not fuck everything up with less than five words, _apparently_ , because he's a fucking _moron_.

All he can think about is how _badly_ he fucked up. Ryan _trusted_ him and Michael fucking _destroyed_ it and now he has to deal with the fallout. He didn't _mean_ any of it, is the thing. It's scary but slowly he's started to feel for the rest of the crew the way he does for Gavin – dangerously close to l-o-v-e but Michael's just _ruined_ whatever chance he had. He presses his hands to his eyes, ignoring the wet he can feel and trying to control his ragged breathing.

It doesn't work.

–-

Michael emerges from his room two days later, pushed out by dehydration after he exhausted the few snacks and water bottles he had in his room. There's no one in the kitchen while he puts together a sandwich – the Post-It on the fridge tells him Geoff, Jack, and Gavin are closing a deal across town.

He stands at the counter while eating it, staring blankly at the cabinet. All he tastes is ash. A door opens in the hallway and Michael turns to look – at this angle, he can only see two doors, but Ray approaches one of the ones he can see – Ryan's door, specifically. His back is to Michael as he knocks, sighing when he gets no answer.

“Ryan, come on,” he says, resting his forehead against the door. “Get out here.”

There's no response and Ray's hands ball into fists.

“Ryan, please,” he says. “I know you're in there, I can hear you fucking typing.”

With no response, Ray's shoulders drop and he sighs again. Michael swallows thickly.

“Stubborn asshole,” Ray says quietly, pushing himself away from the door to walk away.

Michael hates that he's tearing them apart like this.

–-

Ryan's closed door is a stark difference from the rest of the hallway and every time Michael sees it he wants to punch himself. _He_ did that. _He's_ the fucking coward too scared to admit he cares a lot more for these guys than he should.

Fucking idiot Michael.

He tells the others he just had a migraine and brushes off their concern with false laughter and forced smiles that feel hollow and empty. He hasn't seen Ryan in a week, just the covered plates Jack leaves for him after meals and the empty plates that reappear an hour later. No one suspects Ryan's sudden isolation is anything to do with Michael.

Fucking. Idiot. Michael.

–-

Geoff convinces them to get drunk and play Rainbow Six – or, well, try their best – and because he doesn't drink, Ray's the one mostly carrying them, at least until Gavin inevitably shoots him.

“What's the fucking – shield button?” Geoff asks, frowning down at his controller.

“You don't have a shield, Geoff,” Jack reminds him.

“Gavin! Stop fucking shooting me!” Ray snaps, tossing a cooked grenade to force Gavin away. But Gavin, clumsy as he is when he's tipsy, accidentally presses the prone button instead of run and ends up blown to smithereens, laughing gleefully as Ray shakes his head with a fond smile.

Michael doesn't say much among the general chatter, too preoccupied with glancing over at the noticeably empty part of the sofa where Ryan usually sits. And he doesn't want to be a melancholy drunk, but there's disappointment winding its way around his bones and up his throat, weighing him down. It's not as sharp as guilt and heavier than regret, this disappointment in himself.

It's killing him inside that no one else knows because now it feels almost ridiculous to have this tension between him and Ryan, like it's a petty misunderstanding. But Ryan's the last person Michael wants to hurt – he took the longest to trust them, to actually believe they wouldn't stab him in the back, literally, the moment he let his guard down. And then Michael opened his stupid mouth and all that just – _poof_.

Like a fucking magic trick.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last chapter. That's pretty cool. Thanks to everyone who left comments - you made me smile and it was honestly amazing to see how many people liked this, thank you so much for the comments (and I hope this chapter fixes the angst for you) and keep being awesome! 
> 
> (And because I've set one up, feel free to [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A88313ZP).)

Michael's doing a pretty good job of avoiding Ryan – helped by the fact that Ryan sticks exclusively to his room. He texts him, though, during a moment of weakness at midnight on a Wednesday.

> _I'm sorry_

> _Can we talk?_

Ryan doesn't reply. Michael doesn't really expect him to.

–-

Eventually, though, Geoff needs Ryan for a job. And, of course, he makes Ryan Michael's escape driver.

As soon as he says it guilt coils up tight in Michael's chest, guilt and fear and _I fucked it up_ but Ryan doesn't bat an eye, just stares coolly at Geoff as Geoff finishes explaining the plan.

Michael carefully avoids Ryan after the meeting and wonders if Ryan'll kill him before the cops have the chance.

–-

The ride away from the explosion is silent and awkward as Ryan steers them past civilian traffic, swerving around tight corners to avoid the line of cop cars, and breaks onto the open motorways of Los Santos to drive north to the rendezvous point.

“I didn't mean it,” Michael says without preamble. Ryan knows he's not talking about the heist. “Any of it.” Michael's chest aches with all the apologies he wants to say, wants to spill them with a terrifying conviction that reminds him of a sucker punch.

Ryan stays silent but his jaw tenses. He overtakes a slow taxi as Michael drops his guns into his footwell.

“I didn't,” Michael insists, huffing out an irritable breath and running a hand through his hair. “It – It was a shitty – fuck, Ryan, I'm sorry.”

Ryan still doesn't respond.

“I didn't mean _any_ of it, I _don't_ mean any of it,” Michael continues, searching for the right words but they're _not there_. Ryan grunts angrily and swerves the car onto a shoulder, braking suddenly and not letting go of the steering wheel. Michael's more than a little scared. The guilt squeezes tighter.

“I just – I didn't – I care about you, too, Ryan,” Michael says. Ryan's knuckles go white but Michael pushes on, forces words past the sudden constriction of his throat. It feels like he's choking.

“I care about all of you. A lot.” Michael shifts in his seat and nervously rubs his knee, not looking at Ryan. “I just – you kept getting hurt trying to help me and it's not – it's not _worth_ it – I don't _want_ you getting hurt because of – me.”

Ryan flexes his fingers on the wheel. Michael swallows thickly and forces himself to look up at Ryan's profile, at the angry set of his jaw and the stiff lines of his arm.

“I know I don't – deserve it – at all, really – but - “ Michael takes a shaky breath and drops his gaze in a moment of cowardice. “I'm asking for a second chance.”

It's a long shot. He knows that.

The only sound between them for a long two minutes is the quiet purr of the Zentorno's engine. Michael thinks maybe this is the end of this relationship. He kind of expects to get punched in the face. He wouldn't fight back.

“Okay,” Ryan says quietly, so quietly Michael almost misses it. Michael's head snaps up.

“Really?” He asks – whispers – breathlessly hopeful.

“Don't make me regret it,” Ryan warns with a growl, pulling the car into traffic again.

“I won't,” Michael says, _promises_ , and Ryan glances at him, nods once, and focuses back on the road.

It's not forgiveness, but it's a chance. The chance Michael needs.

–-

Michael starts with Gavin.

“I love you.”

Gavin turns to him and smiles, scooting over to rest on Michael's pillow.

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I think - “ Michael halts, reminding himself that if he goes through with this it could all go wrong. He could ruin everything he has with this crew. “I think I love the others, too.”

Michael closes his eyes, sure that all he'll see in Gavin's face is judgment, _hurt_.

“You should tell them that,” Gavin says, not at all what Michael was expecting, and Michael opens one eyes to look at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean - “ Gavin drops his eyes and carefully tangles his fingers with Michael's. “You're not the only one.”

“Really?”

Gavin shakes his head and smiles again. “You haven't been for a while.”

–-

Michael tells Ray next.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Ray replies easily, still looking down at his DS where he's lying on his front. Michael frowns and turns his head – resting on his crossed arms where he's lying on Ray's bed on his back – to face Ray.

“You know I'm serious, right?” He says.

“Yeah.” Ray glances at him and offers a smile.

“Huh,” Michael says, fixing his gaze back on the ceiling. “That was easier than I expected.”

“It's not exactly rocket science, Michael.”

–-

“I love you,” Michael says into Geoff's chest, muffled but loud enough for Geoff to hear, judging by his sudden tensing.

“Is that, like, a romantic I-love-you or a I-just-fucked-your-brains-out I-love-you?” Geoff asks, his arms still firmly around Michael. Michael laughs and shakes his head.

“The first one,” he says. “Although the second one's pretty accurate, too.”

Geoff laughs and squeezes him in a hug. “Love you too, buddy.”

–-

“Love you,” Michael says while he's fiddling with his controller, glancing up at Jack. They're the only two left in the living room, up late playing Trials maps.

“You too,” Jack replies, ruffling Michael's hair and making him duck and try to push him away, but he smiles in a way that tells Michael he's not just saying that.

“Thanks,” Michael says, brushing his hair back to normal. Jack bumps his shoulder against Michael's and Michael gladly leans into it.

–-

Ryan's the hardest to tell. Michael nearly chokes on the words just standing outside his door, his hand poised to knock.

He raps twice against the door, anxiously awaiting whatever response he gets.

“Come in,” Ryan says, and spins around in his chair as Michael enters. “You need something?”

“No, I - “ Michael shakes his head and shuts the door behind him, “ - yes, actually, I need – I need to tell you something.” He frowns down at his feet and Ryan's eyebrows furrow.

“Come here,” Ryan says, scooting forward to pat the bed. Michael sits down on it, facing Ryan. “What's wrong?”

Michael huffs out a laugh, staring at Ryan's legs. “No, there's – there's nothing wrong,” he says. Ryan tentatively puts his hand on Michael's knee and Michael enjoys the touch, as slight as it is. He knows Ryan's trying. It's been over a month since Michael nearly imploded their relationship, and honestly he's a little surprised Ryan didn't retreat more into himself.

“I, uh - “ Michael swallows and scratches at his other knee. This is the hardest one by far, face-to-face with just air between them, no physical touch, nowhere to hide. Somehow, Michael thinks that's fitting for this confession.

“I love you,” he says quietly, glancing nervously up at Ryan, who stiffens in his chair. “I've – I've told the others already.”

Ryan nods and looks down at his lap, not taking his hand off of Michael's knee.

“You don't have to - “ _say anything_ , Michael's about to say, but Ryan interrupts him.

“I think I do, too.”

Michael's breath hitches and his gaze flicks up to Ryan's face again. Ryan's still looking down, but there's the faintest flush on his cheeks.

“You sure?” Michael whispers, suddenly scared of breaking the silence between them. “You don't have to lie to me.”

Ryan shakes his head and his other hand comes up to fist Michael's shirt, pulling in him to press their lips together for the first time in two months. Ryan kisses Michael like he always did – hard and familiar and intense in a strange way that Michael loves.

Michael places his hand over the one on his knee and Ryan lets him curl fingers around his palm, squeezing a little as Michael smiles into the kiss.

–-

Geoff does some reorganising in the spare room – _because we're all apparently in love with each other, you sappy fucks –_ and ropes Jack in to help build, they discover two days later, a giant king-sized bed.

“Oh my god, Geoff,” Michael laughs, pressing a hand to his cheek as he almost doubles over. “Geoff, that's ridiculous!”

“What? I figure since we're all fucking now, we might as well have space to do it,” Geoff says.

Hands settle on Michael's hips as a body appears behind him.

“You'll like it when we're using it,” Ray says next to his ear – Michael glances back and sees Ray's gaze slide to Ryan, who smirks and deliberately rakes his eyes down them.

“Hey Geoff, who's christening it?” Ryan asks.

“Y'know, I'd love to, but I got a meeting to get to. I'll leave it up to you crazy kids.” On his way out, he grabs Gavin by the arm and yanks him along. “I need you for this.”

“What – Geoff!” Gavin squawks, stumbling before he manages to find his footing and follow Geoff. He pouts at Michael on his way past and Michael quickly pinches his cheek to earn himself one of those endearing frowns.

“Don't worry, I'm sure Geoff'll help you test it out later!” Michael yells after them, and Gavin flips him off.

“Jack, you in?” Ray asks, tightening his grip on Michael's hips.

“I just put a fucking bed together, I'm exhausted,” Jack says, stretching.

“But not too exhausted to watch, right?” Ryan asks cheekily.

“But not too exhausted to watch,” Jack agrees, laughing slightly as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “I'm gonna go get a snack first, though. You guys start without me.” He heads towards the door and Ray shrugs behind Michael.

“Guess we will,” he says, and promptly urges Michael towards the bed.

So Michael ends up christening the bed with Ray and Ryan (and fifteen minutes in, with Jack watching) – he discovers the mattress is great for getting fucked into but the pillows don't do much to muffle, well, _any_ noise, really. _That_ he finds out when he realises he can actually _hear_ Ray moaning for once, not just the vibration of it in his chest, but the actual _sound_ that Ray usually silences in pillows.

Later, when Geoff asks, all four of them admit that the bed's pretty damn amazing and then Michael offers to give him and Gavin a thorough demonstration.

The mattress doesn't even squeak.

–-

“All right, go do your fucking jobs,” Geoff says, waving his hands in dismissal. “And you all better be back before midnight.”

They start to leave with various goodbyes, shouldering weapons duffles on their way out. Ray swings another sniper rifle over his shoulder and laughs at the sloppy kiss Ryan plants on his cheek on their way out. Jack follows them out with a bag of ammo and salutes Geoff on the way.

Gavin lingers by the door as Michael carefully stuffs grenades and C4 into his bag, tucking them up against the rigid lining so they aren't jostled too much by his movement. As he passes Geoff, Geoff grabs his arm and gives him a quick kiss.

“Be careful, okay?” He says, looking between Michael and Gavin. “Both of you.”

“We always are, Geoff,” Gavin says with a bright, unconvincing smile.

“You really aren't,” Geoff laughs, gently shoving Michael towards Gavin. “Don't go too crazy with the bombs.”

“No promises!” Michael calls as they turn into the hallway.

–-

Michael understands that it's pretty weird for six hardcore criminals to live together in a penthouse. He realises that most people don't share walls with a violent murderer and their boss. That most people aren't in a relationship with five other guys. And it's not like it's not chaotic, all of them living together as more than a crew. But Michael's already given up the lease for his old place.

There's the loud game night, the drunken antics, the pranks, the sex, the general horsing around that comes from a group of six guys – _I give you too much fucking caffeine_ , Geoff says sometimes.

The door policy is still a firm rule, still respected throughout the penthouse thanks to Geoff's orders. The sock rule turns into an actual rule that extends way past just jerking off, except now it's treated as more of a warning than a do not disturb.

Michael still has trouble sleeping alone now, but he rarely does anymore – usually it's Gavin snoring into his side, but sometimes it's Ray curled next to him or Jack flopped on his back or Geoff smothering him or Ryan's arm over his waist. Sometimes he doesn't see his own bed for a week, when he's bed-hopping around the penthouse and only going into his room to get clothes.

All six of them do fit on the king bed – they don't usually hang out there after sex, too sweaty and sticky to bother, so ironically, they're usually in their clothes – but only with Ray stretched out over their legs and Gavin half on top of Michael, octopusing like the clingy little shit he is. Ryan and Jack are usually wedged up together and Geoff's on the other side of Gavin, complaining about his bony ass and grumbling half-heartedly when Gavin kicks him in the shin with his socked heel. Ray tells them to stop moving and Ryan's hand drops to card through Ray's hair as Jack shows him something on his phone.

It's loud and chaotic and sometimes it's messy as all hell, but when Michael's pressed up on the sofa between all six of them, he can't help think it feels _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want some fic for yourself? I've got [commissions](https://redvsvblue.tumblr.com/post/163213021377/fic-commissions)! (Link goes to my tumblr commission post.)


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